Soulmates
by Alley Cat Sunflower
Summary: In a world never split, Cruxis is still searching for the perfect vessel of Martel. To create that flawless lineage, they need the blood of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, rich and poor, combined. Their hearts may break, but what are two more broken hearts to Yggdrasill's single one? First ever AU. T for implications. I do not own Tales of Symphonia or the cover art!


Colette stared glassily into her mirror as she sat, running a comb through her already carefully brushed hair one last time, and wondered whether she would ever see herself the same way again. It would always be the same face that gazed back at her, but there would be a new hollowness to her eyes—one that was evident even now—and she was sure she'd never smile at herself again.

Leaning closer to the mirror with a sigh, Colette noticed that her eyelashes were still spiky, stuck together with the tears she had not been able to suppress last night; she set the comb down wearily and splashed her face with fresh water. She had to be presentable to her fiancée, after all.

First thing tomorrow, she would be in Tethe'alla's capital, and she was sure today would be the last time she would ever see her hometown—the last time she would ever be in the same place as _Lloyd_. Her breath caught as she rose, and she could not meet her reflection's eye: she had told him that she would be leaving at noon, not dawn, so that she would be able to find the strength to leave him.

How completely and utterly _selfish_ of her. And he had rewarded her with a kiss!

"Col—Chosen?" called her grandmother's voice up the stairs, and she jumped, resenting how she found herself trembling already. She was such a coward; didn't she want the world to be regenerated? Didn't she care about her people? She was doing this for _them_, after all. For Lloyd.

"Are you ready?" continued Phaidra, sounding as though she was trying to hide her grief, and Colette took a deep, shaky breath. Was she ready? No. She would _never _be ready. How could she be emotionally prepared to leave everything she had ever known, all whom she had ever loved, and in all likelihood never return?

But she had to be strong, for herself and for everyone she knew would miss her. Maybe it would be less painful for them if they thought she would be happy in her new life.

"Yes, Grandmother," she responded hoarsely, trying desperately to convince herself she would be all right and keep the tremor out of her voice, and descended the stairs one last time, forcing herself not to glance back.

* * *

Zelos ran an agitated hand through his long, damp hair, and wondered what he had ever done to deserve his position in life. As though being 'Chosen' wasn't enough, being simpered at and fawned over wherever he went, Cruxis had decreed he would have to marry a girl—only just sixteen—whom he had never met in his life. He may have had a way with women, but he never really wanted any for more than one night.

Well, most of them, anyway. There was one exception he could think of, but he might not ever see her again. Not anymore. Not now that he would be officially and forever taken come a few days.

"Maybe this girl won't be like all the others," stated Zelos aloud to his exhausted reflection, but the words sounded hopeless and his voice was quiet with despair. All the others were clingy and shallow. All the others wanted him to be _theirs all theirs_, so that they would be able to reap the many, ludicrous social benefits of being associated with Zelos Wilder.

_Almost_ all the others, Zelos reminded himself, burying his face in his hands. Sheena hadn't ever been like any of the other girls; she cared nothing about his status in life, and she had never once admitted (over all the numerous years) that she'd fallen for him the same way he found himself falling for her. But Zelos _knew_, from the way those pale brown eyes would sparkle at him when she thought he couldn't see him, that more than just his own heart would break on his wedding day.

If he was lucky, his bride wouldn't be shallow and possessive. If he was lucky, she would be as uninterested in him as his mother had been towards his father. If he was lucky, she wouldn't mind if he took a mistress. If he was luckier still, she'd be infertile, and Cruxis's plans (whatever they were) would be thwarted—

But then, if Zelos was _lucky_, he would never have been born Chosen.

* * *

"Can't sleep?"

Raine's soft voice was sympathetic as she approached from belowdecks, but Colette—standing at the railing as the boat glided smoothly onward—couldn't suppress a light sigh as she turned around to face her teacher. Looking up at the stars, and reliving all the times she'd done so with Lloyd, was oddly soothing… but she found herself wondering whether Meltokio would be too bright for her to see the night sky clearly.

"Yeah," replied Colette quietly, but found no other words and merely turned around to stare back up at the cold stars. Had he read her letter? What had he thought of it? He must hate her now.

"He'll understand," said Raine reassuringly, apparently knowing exactly what Colette was thinking—but there was barely concealed doubt in her words; both knew exactly how stubborn Lloyd was. "He'll recover eventually."

A frown spasmed across Colette's face as she imagined Lloyd 'recovering'—the unwelcome image of his marriage to some faceless girl, a stranger, materialized in her head. Off-key wedding music and the mocking laughter of his imaginary bride echoed in her ears. She wanted him to be happy, true, but couldn't they find happiness _together _somehow?

Colette traced the railing restlessly with both hands, turning over the memory of her kiss with Lloyd—so brief, so chaste, and so _breathless_—and wishing he hadn't let her get a taste of him. A crush was forgettable; even if it would have been difficult, even if it had taken years, she could have let Lloyd's memory go in peace. But now that he had given form to their attachment, Colette knew she would think of him every moment till the day she died.

"Get some rest," whispered Raine, kissing Colette's forehead like the mother she had never known, and she bowed her head, unable to speak: Raine understood, and padded softly away again.

She could have stayed with him, nagged a nasty voice in the back of Colette's head. She could have thrown caution to the winds and convinced him to take her away. Lloyd would have protected her, kept her safe from anything, and she would have been happy. They could have been together. Fugitives from heaven, but together.

Yet she knew, deep down, that her fantasy was impossible. Cruxis had decreed that she should marry another, and who was Colette Brunel to disobey the heavens when their commands would someday regenerate the earth?

* * *

They sat across from one another, unable to make eye contact; Corrine was curled on the cushion next to Sheena, who stared at the floor with brimming eyes, and Zelos preferred to analyze the ceiling (though kept one eye on the motionless girl across from him).

What more was there to say?

"So, this is it, then." Sheena spoke first, suddenly, and her voice was raw with unspilled tears: Zelos swallowed empathetically as she fell silent as abruptly as she had spoken. Her expression was impassive, but he could tell her apathy was forced, not genuine. Why wouldn't she ever show him how she truly felt? Frustration simmered in his stomach—resentment not towards her, but at Cruxis itself, at how little time they had left.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, had they had more of a relationship, parting would hurt even more. Maybe that had been why Cruxis had chosen now of all times to reveal the news.

"It's not the end of the world, Sheena," he said, trying to smile, but at her stony eyes his halfhearted grin faltered and vanished. "Honestly," he added, rising and cautiously taking a few steps forward to kneel next to her (Sheena's eyes were wide and suspicious, but she didn't move). "We can still see one another, you know. Just because I'll have a wife doesn't mean I have to… to love her." He hesitated. "The way I'll always love you."

Sheena stared down at him, shocked, and a drop slipped down her cheek as she blinked; she opened her mouth as though to say something, but clamped it shut again hastily, her expression rigid. She was holding her breath, and Zelos's eyes stung suddenly with the knowledge that she was barely holding back a sob: he rose to his feet with an aching sigh.

"I'm so sorry, Sheena," he murmured, throat burning, and she stood up suddenly: he was afraid for a moment of her clenched fists, but she only clutched him around the middle in a rough embrace, offering her unspoken reciprocation of his statement. He staggered back, but clung to her, drawing her as close to him as he could; her fingernails dug into his back with the effort of closing all distance between them, and as she cried into his chest, his tears rolled into her hair.

They cried for the time that wasn't theirs anymore, for all the moments they could have told one another how much they loved each other, for their futures that could never be intertwined the same way again. But as they broke apart, sniffling, eyes red and cheeks wet, the full and devastating knowledge of their shared and wasted past and their separate futures didn't prevent Sheena from leaning up and meeting Zelos's tremulous lips with hers (his eyes widened before finally closing).

The present was still theirs, however short it may be.

* * *

"Ah, you must be Miss Colette Brunel."

Colette nodded, though the statement hadn't been a question. "Yes," she said, distantly, resisting the urge to stare up at the mansion towering above her—was this really where she would be living from now on?—and Raine gave her an encouraging smile. "And this is Raine," she remembered hastily.

"Please come in, Misses Colette and Raine," responded the butler kindly, stepping aside; Raine followed hastily, glancing around warily, and Colette blinked, trying to accustom her senses to so much luxury. She reminded herself to ensure that her fiancée wouldn't catch her staring, but no one but the servant was in sight.

"I apologize for the Chosen One's lateness," he said, with a tinge of disapproval to his voice. "I'll fetch him. Please, take a seat." He marched up the stairs, surprisingly spry for a man of his age, and Colette sank onto one of the couches, Raine taking her place on the other one.

A sharp knock at the door startled Zelos abruptly into wakefulness; it couldn't be past ten in the morning—why was he being awakened? "Miss Colette Brunel has arrived," announced Sebastian dryly, voice slightly muffled through the door, and Zelos sat up suddenly.

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?" he snapped, slipping out of bed and rummaging through his dresser to find some suitable clothes. He had to dress to impress, after all.

"I tried every half hour since eight," responded Sebastian irritably, and Zelos rolled his eyes. "You must have been exhausted, Chosen One."

"That's a good way to put it," muttered Zelos, glancing down (knowing his countenance softened) at Sheena's lithe, bare back: she seemed so peaceful and vulnerable when she was sleeping, not at all the tough girl she was when she was awake. "I'll be down in a sec," he added, more quietly for her sake, and Sebastian's footsteps retreated.

Colette glanced up sharply to see the butler returning, but relaxed as soon as she noticed that he was alone. "The Chosen One says he'll meet you soon," he announced. "In the meantime, may I bring you any refreshments? Either of you?" he added, extending the invitation to Raine.

"No, thank you," responded Raine politely, and Colette shook her head shyly. Having someone constantly waiting on her every need when she was more than capable of doing things herself would take a lot of getting used to.

"Very good," bowed the butler, and stood primly by the stairway, eyes looking straight ahead, arms at his sides. A shiver went down Colette's spine; he almost didn't look human—the only thing that indicated that he was alive was his breathing. Would he just stand there until someone told him they needed something?

Zelos brushed Sheena's hair out of the way tenderly and brushed his lips against her forehead; she stirred a little in her sleep, but didn't awaken, and he wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed. There would be no final goodbyes; this would be as fleeting an encounter as with all the others.

She deserved better. Filled with aching regrets, he opened the door and gave her one final, lingering gaze before closing it and turning the key in the lock. She would know, when she awakened, that she would not be welcome in his house any longer—and Zelos knew in his heart that when he next opened the door, he would find his bed empty and his window open with no trace of the only woman he was sure he loved.

As the seconds ticked by, more and more slowly, Raine occupied herself with wandering around, looking at various pieces of art; Colette remained seated, fidgeting with her fancy dress awkwardly (given her by the 'welcome party' when she had disembarked); it barely hung past her knee. Was Tethe'allan fashion always so short?

Zelos stood silently at the top of the stairway, gazing down at his bride-to-be; she looked nice enough, with her sunny golden hair and sky-blue eyes, but she was no Sheena—and not just because she lacked her curves. Resting a gloved hand on the banister, and wondering very much whether he should behave like his own self or the man everyone knew as the Chosen, he descended the stairs.

Colette jumped: there was the man who must have been her future husband, judging from his impressive attire—though his Cruxis Crystal was hidden from view. She rose shakily, heart threatening to burst out of her chest out of pure anxiety; Zelos nodded swiftly to Sebastian, who departed immediately, and approached his future wife (who watched the butler go with some relief). He would prefer their first meeting to be alone.

"Good morning," greeted Zelos, smiling at her, and lifted her hand to kiss it: Colette made an effort to relax her muscles as his lips caressed the back of her hand briefly, lightly. "My name is Zelos," he added, releasing her swiftly from the formality as he noticed her obvious discomfort. "What's yours?"

He knew, of course. Sebastian had told him. But it was only polite to ask.

"I'm… Colette," she responded diffidently, scuffing a foot on the floor.

"It's nice to meet you, Colette," said Zelos softly, sitting on the couch; Colette hesitantly sank back onto her own, and thought she saw something shift in Zelos's eyes: his heart throbbed painfully. Only yesterday, he had sat on this same couch in this same way, but it had been Sheena who had sat across from him, just like Colette was sitting now.

"Nice to meet you too," mumbled Colette. This was going absolutely nowhere. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and they wondered together whether they could ever learn to love one another. They seemed nice, didn't they? At least that was something.

Zelos cleared his throat awkwardly; he had never had so much trouble thinking of things to say to a girl. Colette glanced around for Raine, but she was nowhere to be found (probably still investigating the works of art decorating the walls): she was alone with a complete stranger. Her future husband, she corrected herself. She was going to have to get used to Zelos in that context, and fast.

He decided to be honest. Honesty was the best policy, unless one of his conquests asked about how many other women he took to bed, in which case he decided that the next best policy was dodging the question.

"I'm sorry that you were forced to come here to marry me," said Zelos eventually, and Colette's eyes widened: she had expected him to be much less candid at first, to deny Cruxis's involvement in their marriage, to insist that she immediately love him as a wife should. "I'll try to be good to you, but you should know I don't exactly have the best record for being faithful." He tried to suppress the note of self-loathing, but wasn't entirely successful.

At least he was honest, realized Colette. They could have married her to a liar… like she deserved.

"It's okay," said Colette quickly, trying to smile for his sake, but failing miserably. Zelos gave her a curious glance, but she couldn't explain everything she had left behind. She _couldn't_ talk about Lloyd. If she just refused to talk about him, maybe her memories of him wouldn't torment her so much anymore.

Something was definitely going on with her. Zelos raised his eyebrows, but she said nothing, too focused on her fingers clasped in her lap to respond to his meaningful glances.

"Do you like what you've seen of Tethe'alla?" he prompted gently; Colette started and barely met his eyes. Truthfully, she'd been so focused on what she had left that she hadn't been paying attention to anything she had gained. Her new country was strange and prosperous, but she didn't know the first thing about it.

"It's… nice," she managed, voice breaking against her will.

"It's okay to miss your old life," said Zelos quietly, almost interrupting her (knowing exactly what it was in her throat that rubbed her voice raw), and Colette blinked in shock. "I'll miss mine, too," he added, tossing a glance up the stairs at his bedroom door, behind which Sheena still slept. "We can't bring anything with us, though, or… we'll never stop thinking about what _was_. We have to move on."

Colette understood; there was a pleading note in Zelos's voice, and he knew he was trying to convince himself, just as much as he was trying to convince her. They may be together as Cruxis ordained, but they were more alone than ever.

She nodded tentatively with a shy smile of agreement, which Zelos returned hesitantly. She really did look beautiful when she smiled, he reflected; Colette could see that his grin was strained, only a shade of the extravagant exuberance she could easily imagine on his handsome face.

They could survive, they realized as their eyes met, with something like hope flooding their broken hearts. He wasn't Lloyd. She wasn't Sheena. It wasn't a perfect romance, nor would they have chosen it had they had the choice. But Cruxis had at least blessed them by finding them kind, honest, and tolerant partners.

They would find a way to make it work.

* * *

_I watched "Fiddler on the Roof" yesterday, and apparently the theme of arranged marriages was stuck in my head, so this is the result, with considerably less song and dance._


End file.
